


Pearl Diving

by HeatherAster



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: "This Orient Pearl", "Treasure of an Oyster", Episode: s02e05 Murder A La Mode, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, because it didn't exist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23669569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeatherAster/pseuds/HeatherAster
Summary: Sexy Shakespeare banter over a corpse?  We expect nothing less from our favorite detectives!  But what if it went beyond just banter?
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78





	Pearl Diving

“Treasure of an oyster,” Phryne said, one of the large, aubergine pearls that had come from Mrs. Wilde’s necklace pinched in a set of tweezers. Half of the pearl was covered in the deceased’s blood which gravity was drawing into a heavy drop that was about to fall.

“He kissed the last of many double kisses,” Jack replied, turning to look at her, his face very close to hers as they crouched over the body. “This Orient pearl,” he finished, glancing down quickly then back up to her eyes, his breath brushing lightly over her skin. Phryne raised an eyebrow at his choice of quote, wondering if the highly sexualized line was intentional, or merely reflexive. 

“Not even Marc Antony would want to kiss this one,” she commented wryly, as Jack’s mouth curled up in a small smirk. He took out an evidence envelope and she watched his face as he unfolded the flap, a subtle, self-satisfied smile on his lips. He held the envelope open, and she dropped the pearl into it and he tucked it away in his suit jacket. 

“No pearls on the victim,” he said, turning back to the murder, the spark between them cooling as quickly as it had flared. Phryne pursed her lips and rolled her eyes to the side, disappointed their banter had yet again failed to lead to more, although the presence of a corpse did make things a little more awkward. 

They discussed the time of death and Jack suggested that the killer might still be in the building, and Phryne nodded seriously at him while trying mightily not to look at his muscular thighs clearly visible through his trousers in his crouched position. 

“Did you choose that Shakespeare quote for a particular reason?” she asked him. He made an exasperated face and stood up, holding out a hand for her. She stood and stepped close to him, her eyes still asking the question. 

“It was the first one that came to mind,” he said in that tone that meant he was done talking about it, but he didn’t step back from her either. 

“It has quite a salacious connotation, you know,” she intoned, pressing her advantage. “Shakespeare had a very dirty mind.”

“Is that how they taught it in your French boarding school?” he quipped, a twinkle of challenge flickered at the corner of his eye.

“I think it came to your mind because you were thinking of a very different pearl than the one from Mrs. Wilde’s necklace,” she challenged right back.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Miss Fisher,” he said, his voice raspy with frustration, his body leaning a fraction closer. 

“Oh, I doubt that, Inspector,” she hummed, her fingers dancing over his lapels, quickly pushing his topcoat off his shoulders. 

“Miss Fisher,” he protested, glancing back as his coat fell to the floor. She took advantage of his momentary distraction to step closer, pushing him toward an upholstered chaise and away from Mrs. Wilde’s body. He fumbled back, almost tripping over his own coat and grabbing at her to keep from falling. 

“Now isn’t this nice,” she said as he gained a steady stance, his hands on her hips. 

“Miss Fisher,” he began again as she snaked her arms over his shoulders and around his neck. “Phryne,” he exhaled and closed his eyes. 

“Tell me, Jack,” she purred. “Do you like oysters?”

His eyes locked on to hers, heavy-lidded and serious. Something had changed in that moment and her insides fluttered. 

“I happen to love oysters,” he said slowly, deliberately, his hands sliding further down her hips, his fingers clawing at the sides of her dress as he pulled it up her thighs. “Would you like me to show you.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she breathed, and his mouth descended on hers. He finally got the hem of her dress gathered in his fingers and he smoothed his hands over her silk lingerie. Phryne turned her back toward the chaise and Jack curled an arm around her to lower her down. He pushed her dress up to expose her stomach and kissed the soft skin above her navel as he worked her drawers off her hips. 

“Oh!” Phryne exclaimed at the touch of his lips.

“Quiet, Miss Fisher,” Jack said with a sly grin, and Phryne bit her lip and threw her head back against the chaise. When her drawers were off, he allowed his lips to move slowly lower, while his fingers brushed gently along the inside of her thighs. Closer and closer he moved his mouth and hands toward each other, and when his fingers reached her dark curls, each hair follicle he touched sent a lightning bolt shooting into her body. 

He pressed gently on the inside of her thighs, and she spread them open for him, her breathing coming in short gasps and her insides burning, begging, screaming for his touch. His fingers touched her plush folds, and she cried out but covered her mouth with her hand. His hot breath on her moist skin spread fire throughout her body. 

Jack nuzzled his nose into her curls, his fingers spreading her open, exposing her “pearl.” He stroked the inside of her folds with his fingers before gently pressing on her “pearl” with his soft, wet tongue. She bit down into the heel of her hand and muffled her whimpers as best she could. Her body arched toward him and he kissed her lower lips as intensely as he’d kissed the ones around her mouth. 

He slipped a finger inside her and she cried out into her hand once more. His finger stroked her on the inside and his tongue stroked her on the outside and the electricity sparkled in glorious color behind her eyelids. She moved her hips in time with his hand, the energy gathering in her midsection like a thundercloud. 

A few more strokes and she could no longer contain it. Her orgasm burst forth with the ferocity of an explosion, sending shards of her libido flying in all directions. Jack wasn’t finished, however. As she floated down from her ecstasy, he spread his tongue flat against her in long slow licks, inhaling her aftershocks until she was sufficiently depleted. 

“Treasure of an oyster,” he said, looking up at her.

“And what a treasure hunter you are,” she panted in reply. He stood and helped her to sit up, then handed her her lingerie that he had tossed aside. She watched as he silently moved to the sink to wash his hands and face, and, thinking she couldn’t see, readjust his trousers to hide his own arousal. 

“Jack,” she said, sauntering over to him. “Are you going to be alright?”

He turned and reached an arm around her waist and looked into her eyes. “But she makes hungry, where most she satisfies,” he quoted. 

Her insides melted again at his choice of quote, reminding her of the first time he’d used it, and realizing he must feel that way often. “Why not stop by the house for supper around eight,” she said. “And we can see about satisfying that hunger.”

“I think I can cope with that,” he replied. She thought he might kiss her again but there was a knock on the door of the ladies lounge and the locked doorknob rattled. 

“Coroner here. We need to collect the body,” came the voice from the other side. 

“Coming,” Jack called, going to the door to unlock it. Then he and Phryne shared a satisfied smirk as they walked back out to the salon to continue the investigation.


End file.
